


Corona

by elissastillstands



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 04:15:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18066398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elissastillstands/pseuds/elissastillstands
Summary: A gala and a surprise for Michael. Previously posted on tumblr as part of sapphicstartrek's Femslash February.





	Corona

Philippa makes quick excuses to all the admirals and commodores as she tugs Michael by the hand from the ballroom. "I want to show you something," she says, leading her down a corridor to a maintenance door. "I got a little distracted by Cornwell and Nogura, so that's why we're in a little bit of a rush. I don't want to miss it."

Michael watches as Philippa opens the door to reveal a dusty ladder. "Philippa, where are we going?"

"Just to the rooftop, Michael. A short little adventure." Philippa winks at her.

Michael looks down at her strapless gown, then over at Philippa, who is wearing a crisp silver suit. "Formal clothing is hardly appropriate attire for this sort of venture—"

Philippa's grin grows wider, and she reaches out, beckoning to Michael with one hand. Michael rolls her eyes.

"—fine. Very well, Captain, lead on."

"I won't lead you astray, Number One."

They climb up the ladder until they come to a trap door, which Philippa opens with a creak to reveal the sky. "This is why I insisted you come with me to the gala," she says.

She pulls herself through the opening and offers Michael a hand to help her up the last couple rungs of the ladder. Michael squints in the sunlight, shielding her eyes against the mirror-bright spires of downtown San Francisco. She can see the whole city from where they're standing, and on the horizon, there's the edge of the harbor, a sliver of silver-blue.

"It's—a lovely rooftop," Michael says.

"It's a rooftop," Philippa says dryly. She holds out a piece of dark-tinted glass. "You'll need this."

"Solar observation lenses?" Michael holds her panel up to her eyes and peers up at the sun. Through the treated glass, the sun is a gold-orange crescent in the sky.

"It's a full lunar transit," she realizes. She lowers the lens and turns to Philippa. "There's about to be an eclipse."

Philippa nods, coming to stand behind her. "This was why I wanted you to come along to the gala. I know It's a little old-fashioned, and we see all sorts of stars and planets when we're on duty. But this is—different."

"It's a uniquely local phenomenon.” 

"A 'uniquely local phenomenon,' she says." Philippa repeats, laughing a little. "So scientific, Number One."

"It’s a fact. Eclipses can only be seen in certain locations on planets with specific correlations between their moons and central star systems. They’re highly localized and largely irrelevant to the study of larger astronomical occurrences."

Philippa snorts. “I feel a little offended on behalf of the eclipse.”

Little by little, the temperature drops as the moon blocks out more of the sun. Philippa wraps her arms around Michael's waist and nestles her face into the crook of Michael's neck, and Michael can feel the warmth of her breath on her skin, allaying the increasing chill in the air. 

"I read that centuries ago, people used to think of eclipses as omens from the divine," Michael says, leaning into Philippa's embrace. "Sometimes they were perceived as apocalyptic, sometimes revelatory."

"If you saw day turning to night and the sun being eaten by a mass of darkness, you'd think that it was a supernatural portent too," Philippa says. Michael can hear the smile in her voice. "Even today, awe and scientific knowledge are not incompatible. During a total solar eclipse, the sky goes dark." Her voice is soft, reverent. "The stars come out, and it's the only time you can see stars during the day. It's something of a miracle."

The sky is darkening, the shadows around them fluttering like bird's wings. Michael watches through her lens as the dark circle of the moon blocks more and more of the sun. The Earth's moon is still a novelty for her, whenever she is planetside. Her childhood was spent on a geostable space station, which never generated enough gravitational force to have a moon, and Vulcan has no moons. Whenever she visited her family on Mars and Antares V, she would always try to catch sight of the little asteroid moons, whizzing through the atmosphere like old Earth airplanes. The sight of the Earth's moon during her first night on Earth, hanging in the sky like a great eye, had taken her breath away.

There are stars and planets, suns and moons everywhere in the galaxy, but never before had she seen that moon, pearl-like and grand above the buildings of the Academy. Never before had she looked up and understood the figures which constellations made.

They stand at the railing, watching the sky hand in hand. It now seems to be twilight. The solar observation lens is adjusting itself, the tint lightening as the sun grows dimmer and the air turns cold enough for Michael's skin to prickle. She knows about eclipses, but her textbooks could not have captured the uncanniness of a darkening noon. Eclipses only fall in the same place on Earth about once every century or so. To see the city and the bay falling under the night—this was a sight which can only be seen one time a generation.

"A miracle indeed," she says in belated response, but she can feel Philippa smile in understanding.

"I think you will enjoy this."

The sun is almost entirely covered now. Michael gasps as the edge of the sun flares brilliantly one final time, like a flame in the darkness, and then—

—totality.

The observation lens, having gone clear in the moment of darkness, drops from her fingers at the sight. The sun is a circle of darkness in the ink-deep sky, surrounded by the pale corona with its wispy filaments of light. It is stunning and small, and her mouth goes dry at the sight. All around them, little pinpricks of light emerge, like fireflies on a summer night, and Michael thinks for a fleeting moment that she can reach up and cup them in her hands.

"The stars," Michael breathes. "Philippa—I can see the stars—"

Philippa brings Michael's hand to her lips and feathers kisses over her knuckles and palms, and Michael presses her face into Philippa's hair, laughing at the wonder of it all. 

**Author's Note:**

> All my thanks to tincanspaceship for the beta on this one!


End file.
